Lifeless
by CircleLogicWorksBecause
Summary: You can kill Thanos, but you can't kill Death. Death always has been, and always will be. After Thanos is defeated, the Avengers have the pleasure of meeting his friend Mistress Death. It's all a game to Death, a game where heroes lives hang in the balance and her pawns don't even know she's in charge.
1. Chapter 1

**I am being very bad here. Mistress Death is…nothing like she is in the comics. I'm sorry! This is my version of Death, so she's pretty much completely different. If you didn't read the comics or were like me and got way too into reading backstories and biographies, then you should be fine. Just remember, Death isn't anything like this in the comics.**

** Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, Thanos, Mistress Death, or the state of New Jersey.**

It was done. Thanos was down.

The losses were devastating. Half of New Jersey was flattened by the power of the Infinity Gauntlet. But now, it was in Thor's tight grasp so he could bring it back to his father in Asgard. The Hulk had shrunk back down to Bruce and was promptly handed a pair of pants. Tony's mask was off, and his suit laid around his in disintegrated pieces. Steve looked at his shield in horror, or at least, the two halves that once made up his shield. Clint was out of arrows, Natasha was out of bullets. If the battle had gone on any longer, they would have lost. But thanks to Captain America's quick thinking and oddly sharp tongue, they just barely managed.

Thanos was on the ground, eyes blank, and his oddly black blood in a puddle around him, his thick skull smashed into the ground.

That was all terribly horrifying and all, but every Avenger had their attention focused on something else entirely.

At first glance they thought she was a survivor. One of the very few who was stumbling free of the rubble. It became clear very soon that their initial thought was very, very wrong. The way she was headed straight for them with such a purpose was odd. Beyond that, they could see that she definitely wasn't wearing civilian clothes. She wasn't kicking up dust. Dust swirled dementedly around everything else, catching the light in odd ways, but not around this girl.

Glittering spots of blue peeked out from under a white hood. The hood was attached to a long cloak that was fastened in the front by golden clasps. White fabric swished around her ankles and brushed over golden boots. Golden brown curls tumbled out from the only opening in the front, the one where her face was visible. Her face was exceedingly pale and scarily perfect. Having no flaws and being perfectly symmetrical wasn't normal, and she was obviously not normal.

A few of the Avengers, more specifically Steve, thought she looked like an angel. Not in a lusty or romantic way, because she appeared to be maybe 14 years old, but her gold/white outfit and perfect flawlessness seemed ethereal.

She approached them without any hesitation and a determined look on her face. Her eyes were observant and taking in everything they could.

When she reached the waiting Avengers she had words at the ready. "I see you killed my Thanos."

Those words set them all on edge. Thor tightened his grip on the both the gauntlet and Mjolnir. Natasha and Clint both reached for their weapons before realizing there was no ammo to use. Tony and Steve both felt exposed without their signature things, and it set their teeth on edge to have no way to defend themselves from whoever this evil, Thanos loving angel turned out to be.

"Did I make the big bad superheroes nervous?" She trilled. "My bad." She practically stalked around them all once. Natasha was flexing, testing how sore her muscles were. The Black Widow could take some 14 year old, right?

"My Thanos seems to have done quite the number on you all. Where is your armor, your great weapons to make me fall on my knees in terror? I see nothing." She stopped in front of them and plopped onto the ground, resting her chin in a sparkly golden glove. Thor started to raise Mjolnir and the little girl smiled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Odinson. Don't want to damage your pretty hammer, do you?" Thor raised an eyebrow. He lowered Mjolnir and rose the Infinity Gauntlet. The girl smiled, her perfect white rows of teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

"How _did_ you manage to get that away from him? I would have come to see, but it seems I was too late. At least Asgard treated me well. You weren't great friends with anyone called Skye Heiadottir, were you Thor?" Thor looked taken aback, and his mighty hammer was slowly lifted and caught the rays of sunlight. The girl stayed where she was, another smiled overtaking her. It should have been a sweet smile, but something about it made the Avengers shiver.

"I'm sorry, dear Odinson." Her apology wasn't sincere. Shining blue eyes swept over the gathered people in front of her. "Are you, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, afraid of me? You should be."

Tony Stark was always proud, even when his suit lay in shambles. He took a step forward and locked eyes with the girl. "Us? Afraid of you? You, some lost, psychopathic, 14 year old girl? Who would be scared of you?"

The relaxed, amused expression melted away. In its place came eyes full of hatred and nostrils flared. "Fourteen? _Fourteen_? Why would you believe me to be so young, so naïve, so ignorant? Do you take the Odinson to be 25? No, because you know what he is. You don't know yet what I am, but I can assure you Anthony, I am far older and far more skilled than the pathetic Aesir who sits at your side like an overgrown lapdog!"

She stood up and her ivory cloak bounced lightly and blew in the gentle wind. She marched in front of Thor. An accusing finger was suddenly inches from the god's chest. "Do you know what you are, Odinson? I know what you think yourself. You think yourself immortal, and you think yourself a warrior, a king. You are none of those things, Odinson. What you are is scum. You have betrayed those who trusted you since that day you were born, and it's time you knew it."

Thor looked down at the short girl in horror. Before the girl did anything, she cleared her throat and turned sharply on her heel, facing away from the group. Heavy breathing could be heard from the girl, who was quickly becoming more than just a girl in the Avengers mind.

Her voice was a bit lower and much softer when she spoke again. "I did not come here to explain. I came here to warn you all just what you are up against. But as I stand before you I realize you need a headstart. A fair chance. So, you will get your explanation."

Her eyes met Clint's when she turned her head. "You have been compromised, Barton. Do you know how many you killed? I do. 54. 54 people that died on your hands in the span of a few brainwashed days. How does that feel? If I were you, I'd be proud of myself. Ms. Romonav, so many men were sent to whatever follows death because of you. I would tell you the number, but I believe you already know, don't you? Rogers killed without meaning to, and justified it to himself because they weren't on his team. Is that like a sport to you people? It is to the Odinson, who spent his best days on battlefields. Banner had destroyed homes as well as the families inside of them. Anthony, the Merchant of Death, you might be my favorite. I feel the closest to you, I truly do. But I digress. Thanos.

"I met Thanos hundreds of thousands of years before this day. We weren't friends, that much I can assure you. His people, the Eternals, had a sort of deal with me. They wouldn't die if they made regular sacrifices. I accepted because it kept me amused, not because I needed it. Thanos went above and beyond his brothers. I don't look like an innocent mortal to them, like I do here. To the Eternals, I was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen, cloaked in red and black. Thanos fell for me beyond all reason. His mind was addled by the depth of his worship. That's what it was, really. Worship.

"To prove to me that he would love me eternally, Thanos killed millions of Eternals, almost making his own race extinct of my behalf. That's when the Eternals learned, you don't make deals with Death."

That made the Avengers tense up. Their reaction only made the girl smile again. "My name is different to different peoples. To the Aesir, I am Óáran, or Dauði. Odinson knows the legends. To the mortals of this realm, I have different names in every dialect. But to you all, I am Death. The very embodiment of what each of you fears. The end of your existence. I can't kill you, I am only the end result. But I can make each of you turn on each other, if I wished. I can be very…persuasive."

Natasha knew she was safe from words. So was Clint. They were trained for that. Death noticed and grinned at the spider. "You don't believe me? I can change that."

Natasha waited to hear what Death had to say, but Death said nothing. She turned her back again, and seemed to shudder. When she turned around, it was a different face. "Natalia?" A high pitched voice squeaked.

It was a very little girl, only 6 or 7, with chin length brunette curls and wide brown eyes. The white cloak had shaped and shifted into a short red dress. Pale legs and feet poked out from the bottom. The tiny girl ran for the spy.

"Natalia!" She wrapped her arms around the woman's legs. Natasha just froze and her eyes were staring off into the distance. "Natalia, what's wrong? I found you! I told you I'd see you again and I am now! I found you!"

Natasha swallowed hard and blinked, but didn't look down at the child. The little girl looked like she was about to cry. "Natalia, look at me! I got taller since last time, I really did. Look, look, I'll show you." When that didn't work, the kid took a deep breath. A high soprano voice softly tugged at the hardened, cracking assassin as the child began to sing in Russian. " На утро, солнце покажет. Утром мир будет светиться ..." _In the morning, the sun will show. In the morning the world will glow…_

Natasha seemed to break down, and her raspy voice finished the line with the girl. "и вы будете в целости и сохранности." _And you will be safe and sound._

The little girl giggled and twirled, her claret dress flaring out around her. "You remember! You remember!"

"I can't make myself forget." Natasha whispered hoarsely. Another giggle escaped from the girl. She kept spinning and spinning, slowly getting taller and taller until she was a completely different person entirely.

She had changed again, into a full grown woman. Not the girl older, but a different woman. Her hair was short and black, and her face thinner and more angular. No one seemed to recognize her, but she fell onto her knees before Bruce.

"I'm so sorry! Bruce, I'm so sorry!" Bruce's brown eyes widened as he looked down at the woman kneeling before him. "What I had with Glenn was nothing, Bruce, it was a fantasy, a dream. What I had with you was so…real. Real and wonderful. Please Bruce. Forgive me, and I can start to forgive myself."

"Betty, I…" Bruce faltered. Betty sniffed and nodded.

"I understand. I wouldn't take me back either." Betty retreated and started spinning. All the other Avengers waited with their breaths stuck in their throats, not wanting to know who else was going to crack emotionally from these stupid illusions.

Betty's hairs lengthened and got greasier, her eyes sunk and her cheeks grew gaunt. Slowly she wasn't Betty anymore, but was someone they all knew. An emaciated man with long dark hair and green eyes. But his mouth that had spilled hatred and lies was gruesomely tied shut with golden thread. His emerald eyes were streaming with tears. Nothing about him looked evil. Nothing about him looked healthy.

"Loki?" Thor asked as quietly as a Thor could. The man just whimpered and cried even harder. Thor couldn't help himself, didn't bother to remember it wasn't actually his brother in front of him. He ran for the dark haired prince and tried to put his large hand on the bony shoulder, but his hand fell through and landed on the ground with a thud. Loki was gone.

Death stood a few feet away from where Loki had been, her brown curls and white cloak restored. A grim looked settled on her features. "Betty Ross is still happily married to Glenn Talbot, and she thinks upon the Hulk with no softness or joy. Little Anastasia died of illness at age 8 in the arms of her only friend, the 14 year old Natalia Romanov, while they sang their self-composed lullaby, and she will remain in whatever land the dead settle. But Loki, now that Thanos is gone and so is his control, cries alone in the dungeons of Asgard with no recollection of how he got there."

Bruce looked at the ground, his bottom lip stuck firmly between his teeth. Natasha was visibly fighting tears. Thor fell to his knees and stared at the ground in absolute terror. The other Avengers, as unhappy as they were for their comrades, were relieved they hadn't all gotten a turn.

Death marched right up to Steve and held her right hand, palm up in front of him. It was still encased in a silky gold glove. "Feel my fingertips soldier."

Steve really didn't want to touch Death. All of his instincts were telling him it was a very bad idea. But he knew he couldn't say no to Death. Death would be far too powerful to deny, and Steve wouldn't lie to himself and say otherwise.

So his fingers gently brushed the fingertip of Death. What he felt was shocking. A soft of flutter met him, a constant thrumming. Death looked at him expectantly. Steve stopped short. "What…what is that?"

"Whenever something insignificant dies, a mortal or an animal, I get a pulse in my fingertips. I've come to tune it out. But it's always there. Every time it pulses, I get a name and a face, and nothing else. I don't know where they go. I'm just who they go through. When someone important, a god or an Eternal, leaves us, it's a magnificently fulfilling feeling. It's a pleasure none of you will ever know. You all would be great little prizes for me, and I'm sure Thanos knew it. He himself felt great passing through. But I can't kill you all at once, or the feeling would be wonderful but brief. So it has to be one at a time, and I have to destroy you from the inside out. It will happen. I came here to warn you originally. So that's what I'm doing now.

"No matter what you do, no matter how strong you are, you can't, and you never will, escape Death."

The smiling girl exploded into silver mist that blew away in the breeze.

"My brother…" Thor's low voice mingled with the wind. Steve put a hand on the god's shoulder and then retreated to look at his broken shield again. Everyone was reassessing damages, making sure Death didn't leave any traces.

"She is more dangerous than Thanos," Natasha said quietly. "She knows our weaknesses more than even we do."

No one was really up for talking. They just nodded their agreement. Thor rose slowly and pulled the Infinity Gauntlet over his hand. With a clenched fist, he had all of the other Avengers disappear. They landed in StarkTower, where they needed to be to rest. Thor tightened his fist again and found himself facing the palace of Asgard.

Death watched them, amused. Thanos was finally dead. She had been pulling on his life force for quite some time, and it was finally hers. Those Avengers thought they could defeat Thanos? Maybe. But Thanos with the Gaunlet? Never. That was all Death being bored with Thanos' company.

She already had a plan to ruin the Avengers from the inside. There would be no traces of her, no traces of foul play. It would be left to simmer and than explode. And then the Avengers would be lost in their misery and pain, just like Death was.

**There we go! That's been simmering in my brain for quite some time now. Next chapter will be less Death, more Avengers! Yay! Hopefully, if I can do it right, the battle with Thanos will be pieced together during the rest of the story.**

**Please tell me what you thought, and what you think Death's plan is.**

**Until next time. **


	2. Chapter 2

No one ever loved Anastasia Bauer. The day she was born, she gained one happy memory. A woman with warm arms was rocking her against her white dress. Little shushing noises reached the little girl and she was immediately quiet, already wanting to please this woman.

But then they sent her away. The girl was very small, being 2 months premature, and very very young. Only 3 days old, she was delivered to the city orphanage. It was there she remained for the next 7 years.

It seemed like she would be wanted by someone. She was cute, and small, something many foster parents wanted. But Anastasia was so unnaturally quiet. It made a few people wary of what she was thinking. Not to mention she kept hiding in small spaces and was hardly ever seen.

Honestly, to Death, she was the perfect pawn. Everything about her was just right. Her name, her wide green eyes, her ever-tangled black hair, the way she liked to hide and the soft lilt to her voice. The fact that she lived in Ireland didn't matter. If anything, it made it better. To Death, countries may as well have all been connected by highways.

It was easy to locate the place Anastasia lived. A tall brick building with a sign that clearly stated where they were stood proudly on a dull plot of land. The ocean was far away, and the sky was cloudy and gray, the way it often was when Death was traveling. Inside it was lit brightly and had thick gray carpeting. It seemed like a lovely place to stay. Death did not want to stay long and quickly, invisibly, found her way to Anastasia.

She thought the child would be sleeping. Of course, Anastasia had to be difficult. The small mortal was whispering softly in Irish, the accent strong. "Má d'fhéadfadh a fhágann tú, ba mhaith leat?" _If you could leave, would you?_

Another voice, older and lower, answered back with a slight chuckle. "Ní ba mhaith liom a fhágáil gan a rá beannacht. B'fhéidir ní ba mhaith liom a fhágáil ar chor ar bith gan tú." _I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. Maybe I wouldn't even leave without you. _

"Ceart go leor." _Okay._ Anastasia seemed comforted by the older girl and tried to drift off to sleep.

The other girl smiled at Anastasia and started to sing. The words críona and arún kept coming up. My heart, my love. It was a motherly lullaby sung in the soft alto tones of a friend.

Death watched the child's breathing even out and waited for the older girl to go as well. A very small, buried part of Death longed to be in their place. Death couldn't sleep. If she could go to any kind of dreamland, it would be a perfect retreat from everything she had to put herself through. Beyond the wish of wanting to sleep, part of her wished she could be that innocent and pure. When Death was made, she was made to be corrupt and mischievous, the opposite of any kind of purity this little child possessed.

She shook her wishes away with a violent head shake and refocused. The girls were both asleep, and the sun had slipped behind the horizon hours ago. Those pithy Avengers would possibly still be awake if they had gotten enough sleep two nights ago when Death first met them. Perfect.

Death reached a pulsing finger out towards the girl and took a deep breath. When her finger reached Anastasias face, Death felt a crippling sense of loss. Anastasia disappeared, and so had the throbbing in Deaths fingertip. She waited, gasping for air. Ten seconds later, the pulse returned and Death felt herself return to normal. She couldn't just teleport people, she had to power them with the deaths flowing through her. It was more than enough to quickly send a girl across an ocean, but it left Death powerless for a moment and it made her panic.

Anastasia would be just where Death wanted her, still asleep. Please with what she had done, Death made the decision to go visit some centaurs and meet one that she could feel was about to go in person.

Anastasia remembered whispering in the dark to the only person she ever talked to, her only friend. Once she was sure that Ciara wouldn't leave her alone, she fell asleep to the sound of her singing. It was a very nice way to drift off. What wasn't quite so nice is the way she was jolted back.

"Tony!" A voice shouted. It was a woman, that Anastasia was sure of. It didn't sound like Miss Cinnsealach (Pronounced Kinsella), and she was pretty sure she had never met anyone named Tony in her entire short life. "Come quickly!"

Those words didn't make any sense to Anastasia. They sounded like nonsense. Why did this woman talk so sharply, cutting off all of her syllables before getting them out properly? It was very strange and Anastasia decided she would hide again today instead of being looked at by this woman who talked so strange.

It was weird, Ciara wasn't coming over to kiss her on the forehead and say 'maith ar maidin, éan beag' _good morning little bird _like she always did. Was Ciara busy? What was she doing? It wasn't her turn to help make breakfast, so she should have been up with Anastasia and helping her out of bed and into the hiding place she knew the little girl went whenever an undesirable foster parent came into the building. But she didn't.

With her eyes still closed, Anastasia waited. Footsteps came for her, and they didn't sound muted like they always did in the soft carpet. In fact, they sounded entirely different. More clicking and sharp.

"What is that?"

"…A little girl?"

"What?"

"Genius of the year: Tony Stark. When did a little girl get in here?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked you what it was."

"So she's just here?"

"I'll check JARVIS and then send her home."

"I guess I'll wake her up." The woman spoke last in that nonsense language they were using. A soft, long fingered hand gently shook Anastasia's shoulder.

Her voice think with sleep, a heavily accented jumble of words managed to shake free of the girl's vocal chords. "Ná ní ghlacfaidh mé le do thoil. Ciara? Ciara, áit a bhfuil tú?" _Don't take me with you please. Ciara? Ciara where are you?_

Anastasia's eyelids fluttered open to reveal inquisitive green eyes. When she met the stormy blue eyes in front of her, she drew back the best she could while laying down. Anastasia didn't know those eyes, didn't trust those eyes. They weren't the clear, welcoming gray she had been hoping for. It wasn't Ciara.

The woman leaning over her was pretty, with light red hair falling over one shoulder and light freckles dancing across her nose. She could be Irish, but she didn't talk Irish. "Who are you?" The woman asked in confusion.

Anastasia, not understanding the meaning of those words, just stared blankly back at the woman. Soon she got bored with that and started to crane her neck to see where she was.

She was right about the floor. It was hard and shiny, and the walls around her were scarlet and gold. Anastasia' s three and a half foot form was curled up on a red couch that rested on a black rug. In front of her was the largest television she had ever seen. Behind the television was a wall of mostly windows that displayed a beautiful sunrise that painted the sky pink and orange. Tall buildings poked into the tendrils of color.

When Anastasia looked back at the woman she saw an expectant look. The woman sighed at pointed at herself saying, "My name is Virginia."

Anastasia smiled. She was pretty sure she understood that! Virginia smiled back. "And you are?"

Even though Anastasia didn't understand the words, she knew how conversation worked. She had watched it happen enough times. So she pointed a finger at herself and very quietly informed Virginia, "Is é mo ainm Anastasia." _My name is Anastasia. _

"Pepper!" A mans voice ran out. The same man that had been talking to Virginia. Anastasia turned to examine the dark haired man. He had sharp facial hair and a few bruises and cuts on his face. They were healing, but clearly recent. He looked like his face should be happy, but it was currently set into a grim expression.

"The Leprechaun here is talking in Irish. JARVIS translated it. She's asking for someone named Ciara. The security feeds from last night show something just teleporting onto my couch. No one entered or exited. She just showed up. And I don't like it." His opinion was tacked onto the end of his spiel. Anastasia wasn't sure she liked this man.

Her small hands grasped her black curls, slowly threading her fingers through it like she was just about to put in up or back, but she didn't. It was a comforting motion, reminding her of when Ciara pulled two front strands of hair up with a rubber band and tied a ribbon around the band. She didn't have either of those things, or Ciara.

Virginia looked over at the man. "Tony, does anyone here speak Irish? Maybe they could help us out."

The man was going to point out that JARVIS could do it, but didn't want to upset Virginia and went away. Virginia turned back to Anastasia.

"We'll find someone for you to talk to. That way we can get you home. Unless you speak any English?" The blankly confused look on Anastasia face told Virginia everything. "Alright."

Virginia got up and went into another room, leaving the door wide open so Anastasia's green eyes to track her every movement. She was rummaging around in some cabinets and soon Anastasia got bored. She turned to look out the window, or the wall really. The sky was now a crystalline blue and she smiled happily at the puffy clouds. It was a beautiful day in whatever city she was in. For a while she was just content with watching birds.

Virginia was soon at her side again with a plate full of food. Anastasia figured it was breakfast, but it wasn't the salted eggs or buttered bread she usually received for breakfast. It was a flat, fluffy disk covered with a sticky brown liquid. The smell coming from it was fantastic, and Anastasia did her best to not spill any of the stick stuff on her blue pajamas.

Them dark haired man came back and was tugging at the wrist of another dark haired man. But the second man's hair was curly and his skin was much darker. He looked tired and much nicer and warmer than the first man. Anastasia immediately liked him.

So she hopped off of the couch and walked over to the second man. "Dia duit. Is é mo ainm Anastasia. Cé go bhfuil tú?" _Hello. My name is Anastasia. Who are you? _

The warm man smiled. "Bruce. Glaoch siad dom Bruce." _They call me Bruce. _

Anastasia grinned widely at Bruce, very happy to find someone who wasn't speaking nonsense. Suddenly she erupted into uncharacteristic chatter because she was so pleased to understand and so confused about how she had gotten where she was.

She kept asking questions about where she was, who these people were, why they were talking weird, and where Ciara was. Virginia and the first man just stood off to the side wondering what in the world was going on in front of them.

Bruce good naturedly smiled at the little girl and answered her questions the best he could. They were in New York City in America. The people around her were Pepper, Virginia's nickname, and Tony, even though there were more people in the building in other places. The people were talking weird because it was a different language that Anastasia didn't understand. He didn't know who Ciara was and hadn't seen her around the tower.

Anastasia was satisfied with the answers. Then she went back to the couch and burrowed into a corner, trying to absorb herself into a cushion.

Bruce turned to Tony and Pepper. "She had no idea where she is or how she got her. Her name is Anastasia, she's 7 years old, and lives in an orphanage in Ireland. She asked me a lot of question about where she was and why she couldn't understand you, but apparently she's appeased with the answers. How do we proceed from here?"

"Send her back to Ireland?" Tony suggested. Pepper looked pensive.

"How do we know she wouldn't just end up right back here? Maybe she's supposed to be here for something. If it happened once, it could happen again. We don't really know." Pepper mused. "Also, she's an orphan, right? So no one wanted her where she was. She doesn't have anything to go back _to_."

The adults looked at the girl, confused and thoughtful. This little girl was a conundrum that the scientists were both very ready to solve.

Death watched them all. She saw the woman melting as she looked as Anastasia. Her plan was falling into place, albeit slowly. But as long as it was happening, nothing had to get messy. Not just yet anyway.

**Are you guys okay with all the foreign-ness? I try to make it better by putting the translation right there. Should I stop with the Irish/Russian/Whatever other language comes up?**

**Also, how do we all feel about Anastasia? Death? What is this master plan? **

**Until next time. **


End file.
